


Principátus

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Principátus [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Demonic Possession, Discussion of Spirituality, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: "It’s been a pretty intense few cycles for you.”Prowl realized they were right, it had been less than a full seventy-four cycles since his sibling and friends had dared him to spend a night in a haunted house.Prowl, his friends and sibling, and Jazz, stop overnight at a monastery on their way back to Praxus.





	Principátus

Prowl was exhausted. On a dare from his sibling, Bluestreak, and his friends Trailbreaker and Hound, he had agreed to spend the night in a ‘haunted’ house to prove there was no such thing as ghosts. They had driven for cycles just to get there on top of having had a full day already. Prowl had expected to go in, explore the abandoned house, and then find a quiet place to read for a bit then shut down for the rest of the night. The house was empty, and the way it appeared the inhabitants had just gotten up and left made it creepier. Still, there had been no ghosts, and everything had pretty much been going to plan right up until Prowl had set foot on the attic stairs.

 _Rage_ had pushed at him, followed by someone snarling at him when he began to ascend the stairs anyway. Put off, but concerned that someone might be injured, Prowl had gone up to the attic anyway and discovered a-a _being_ in the shape of a mech, chained and trapped. The being, who said Prowl could call him Jazz, had been called and bound by the conjurer who’d owned the house. Prowl would have called it a delusion except there was _something_ about Jazz that was different. Otherworldly. Still, in the form of a mech, they were affected by the physical much the same as a mech would be, and Jazz had been starving. Prowl had fed and freed them – and released a second entity, one whose summoning had been done incorrectly, corrupting them into a demon. The demon could not be let free of the house and, in his weakened state, Jazz was not able to banish and fight them at the same time. _Prowl_ had been the one to fight the demon, and he was still not sure how he had held out until Jazz had been able to complete the banishment.

After the fight Prowl had gone to check on Jazz and had seen _Jazz_.

(There had been light…)

Magical binding undone, and the demon gone, Jazz had been healed of energy deprivation and damage by their…kin, Prowl guessed was the closest word. They had also decided to stay on Cybertron for a while, and that seemed to mean staying with Prowl, at least for the time being.

The two of them made their way out of the house much faster than Prowl had made his way in. They were on the second-floor stair, heading down, when Prowl heard his sibling and friends on the first floor. It occurred to Prowl, suddenly, that he had _no idea_ how to explain Jazz.

“Just tell them the truth,” Jazz said when Prowl asked them what to say. That hadn’t been exactly what Prowl meant, but instead of asking again he devoted a processing thread and a good chunk of memory to working it out.

“Prowl!” Bluestreak exclaimed when Prowl and Jazz met him, Trailbreaker, and Hound on the first floor. Bluestreak darted over to Prowl and hugged him tightly, clearly worried about his sibling. “Are you okay? We were outside in the shelter, and we could hear noises coming from the house. Did something happen? Did you fall? It wouldn’t be like you to fall, but – ” It was when Bluestreak stepped back to look Prowl over for damage that Jazz’s presence finally registered. “Oh. Um. Hi. I’m Bluestreak, Prowl’s sibling. That’s Trailbreaker and Hound behind me. Hound’s the green one. Uh, we didn’t know anyone else was in the house. Are you here hunting for ghosts, too?”

Jazz smiled. “No, young one, I’m not.” They looked Trailbreaker and Hound over. “Tell you what, let’s get Prowl here somewhere he can rest before he shuts down and he and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“ _Not_ in the house, please,” Prowl added. He wanted out of here – probably not as badly as Jazz did, though.

Hound looked uncertain. “Well, there’s a monastery not far from here. I know they’ll take in travellers for a night or two.”

“That’ll be fine,” Jazz assured him.

“Can you make it, Prowl?” Trailbreaker asked. “I know the place Hound means, it’s maybe a cycle out.”

“I can make it,” Prowl promised. His exhaustion was mental and emotional, not physical. So long as he didn’t have to think much, he would be fine. Granted, it was hard for Prowl to stop thinking. His sator, a racer who experienced the same problem, had taught him some meditative techniques to use while driving. (Hunter and Breakneck had asked Vector Sigma for a juvenile spark with what each found to be the best qualities in the other. Prowl had remembered, during his fight with Barricade, experiencing their love and joy when he onlined for the first time.)

“We’ll be right there if you need us,” Bluestreak told Prowl. “You can ask me for anything, you know that, right, Prowl?”

“I know, Bluestreak.” Prowl spontaneously hugged his sibling again. “Let’s go.”

Prowl wound up in the middle of the little convoy as they drove to the monastery. Jazz took up the rear, and Bluestreak managed to get himself between Prowl and Jazz, apparently unsure about the mystery mech.

‘ _Your sibling loves you very much,’_ Jazz sent to Prowl. ‘ _He has a good spark.’_

 _‘Yes, he does.’_ Prowl had been there, to the minor scandalization of the attending priest, when his sibling had been sparked. He’d seen the glow of Bluestreak’s spark for barely a nano-klik, but he remembered how warm it had seemed. Prowl had been determined to look out for his sibling from that moment on.

 _‘So do you. Really looking forward to getting to know you better, Prowl of Praxus.’_ There was warmth in the glyphs Jazz used.

Prowl had never entirely known what to do with compliments or personal interest and fell back on shy silence. Bluestreak often filled that silence for him, but Bluestreak had not been included in the comm.

The monastery was nearly as hidden as the house they had just left had been but not nearly as intimidating. Lights lit the long drive into the campus and spilled from the windows of the temple. Prowl was not given to worship or religion in general, but he was comforted by the display.

The five of them transformed as a monk, painted in sombre colours and bearing the insignia of the monastery, came out to greet them, bowing shallowly.

“Greetings, travellers, and welcome to the Abbey of the Cable Jungles. I am Parament.” Parament gave them a nano-klik to review her ID ping and continued. “May we assist you with fuel and housing for the night?”

Hound bowed to her in return, copied a fraction of a nano-klik later by the rest. “Thank you, Ascetic Parament. Fuel and housing would be greatly appreciated. I’m Hound, and this is Trailbreaker, Bluestreak, Prowl and – ah – “

“Jazz,” they supplied and glanced over at Parament. “We met on the way.”

Parament was looking at Jazz with a faint, curious, frown, clearly aware there was something different about them but not quite able to articulate it.

“All are welcome,” Parament said. “Please, follow me to the guest quarters. The midnight worship must not be disturbed, but you are most welcome to join us for the dawn service before you continue on your way.”

Prowl had never been told to leave anywhere so politely.

The guest quarters were, as expected from a monastery, spartan, but clean and comfortable. There were two rooms with three single beds each and not much more, and a small common room with a dining table, bearing a small pile of energon cubes, and six chairs. Prowl rather liked the austerity of it.

“Can you stay up a little longer, Prowl?” Trailbreaker asked. “I want to know what happened to you in that house.”

“And who I am, right?” Jazz asked cheerfully, not sounding offended in the least. They took a seat in one of the chairs, tilting it dangerously back on two legs till the back rested against the wall. “No problem. Sit down and let Prowler and me fill you all in.”

‘’ _Prowler?’’_

 _‘You freed me, I like you. You get a nickname._ ’

People did not give Prowl nicknames. He was pleased that the first one came from Jazz.

‘ _Take a seat, Prowler.’_ Jazz continued, gesturing to the chair to their right and Prowl circled the table and took it. The symbolism of being seated at Jazz’s right hand wouldn’t occur to him until later when he wasn’t so worn, hungry, and tired. For now, he was just glad to rest.

“Let’s make it quick, yeah?” Jazz said as the rest took their seats. Bluestreak sat next to Prowl, ready to support or defend his beloved elder sibling, and Trailbreaker was next to him. The seat to Jazz’s left hand stayed empty. “Prowl’s had an intense night.”

“But what _happened_?” Bluestreak asked, clearly frustrated and worried. “Prowl, are you alright? You don’t _look_ hurt, but…” He trailed off uncertainly.

“I’m fine, Bluestreak,” Prowl hastened to reassure him. “It’s just – I don’t know how to begin.” He’d experienced it, and not even that long ago, but the more he thought about it, the less real he became. He didn’t even have any damage left from the fight to prove what he was saying because Jazz had healed him.

“Start with how you found me,” Jazz suggested gently. “You were almost done exploring the house...?”

“Yes, I’d just found the door to the attic…”

Prowl recounted his meeting with Jazz, how he’d helped and freed them. He explained what Jazz was and how they’d come to be trapped in the house. Relaying the fight with Barricade was hard because it was mostly a blur of impressions and memories. Telling them what he’d seen when he’d staggered up to check on Jazz was _impossible_. (There had been…they were…and the _light_!)

Bluestreak’s optics were huge by the time Prowl finished, and his defensiveness on behalf of his sibling had vanished.

“You were _alone_?” Bluestreak breathed, horrified, staring at Jazz. “And _starving?_ But – how could the-the conjurer _do_ that to you? How long were you there? Are you still hungry? Do you still need help?”

Jazz smiled at him. “In order of your questions: alone except for Barricade on the other side of that door; yes, I was starving; he was foolish and desperate and didn’t think things through; a long time; no, and; no. But thank you.”

Bluestreak still looked like he wanted to hug Jazz but wasn’t quite sure if he should. He settled for putting an arm around Prowl and leaning into him for a klik. Trailbreaker took Bluestreak’s other hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Hound, seated opposite to Jazz, was looking at the entity-in-mech-form with something like awe and Prowl was reminded that, out of the four of them, Hound was the most spiritual.

“Are you really an…” Hound’s voice trailed off as if he wasn’t sure he should finish asking that question.

Jazz nodded. “I really am. ‘S okay if you just call me Jazz, though, and if you like once you’ve had a couple mega-cycles to take it all in you and I can sit down, and you can ask me all those questions you’ve got. Can’t say I’ll be able to answer,” ‘able’ had a subharmonic of ‘allowed,’ “but you can ask.”

“I’m not sure what to make of all this,” Trailbreaker said slowly. “But if Prowl and Hound believe you it’s good enough for me. I – Well, let’s just say I don’t _not_ believe.”

“No problem, mech. No point in being given free will if you’re obligated to believe in the one who gave it to you, right?”

“I guess…?”

“Would anyone mind if I went to bed?” Prowl asked. “I apologize, I’m just – I’ve had a trying night.”

He was answered with a chorus of reassurances that no, they didn’t mind, and he should rest if he needed to, and rose. Jazz tipped their chair back down onto all four legs and stood as well.

“I’m fresh off the line again, as it were,” they said. “Think I’ll look around the abbey for a bit, see what mortals are up to worship-wise these days.”

“I’m not sure we should wander around,” Prowl cautioned him. Jazz grinned at him.

“Hey, Parament didn’t say we couldn’t, either,” they reasoned. “Besides, I can be real quiet-like when I want to be. Trust me, Prowler.”

Prowl did.

* * *

Prowl slept the sleep of the just until dawn when bells rang out to summon monks and visitors to worship. He groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows to look around. Jazz was amusing themselves by performing a one-handed headstand at the foot of the second bed.

“Feels so good to be able to move again,” they said and bent at the waist until they could get their feet on the floor again. “Morning. Want to come to the dawn service with me? I didn’t slip into the one last night, but I’m still curious. I mean, I get the impression you’re not big with religion, but I thought you might like to see it. I’ve never been to a dawn service in an abbey, have you?”

“I’m not sure what I believe right now,” Prowl said honestly. “I’ll go with you.” It couldn’t hurt, and it would show respect for the monks’ beliefs after they had been kind enough to put five strangers up for the night.

“Cool. There’s supposed to be some priest from the First Temple in Iacon guest-preaching today. Been ages,” Jazz laughed, “literally, ages, since I’ve seen a priest from the First Temple. I want to see if they’re still what I remember.”

“Religion wasn’t much included in our lives as we matured,” Prowl said, keeping his voice down as they walked through the guest quarters. “Is there something special about the temple in Iacon besides its location?”

“It’s the spiritual heart of Cybertron,” Jazz told him. “Or it’s supposed to be, anyway. I didn’t get a lot from my people during our quick chat last night, but apparently, something’s off.”

Prowl had heard whispers of corruption among the priests, of course. Few hadn’t. He had never heard any tangible proof, however, merely a lot of statements along the lines of ‘everybody knows.’ His creator, Hunter, had been an Enforcer for centi-vorns and claimed that the phrase ‘everybody knows’ meant ‘everybody is imposing their own bias’ and one should wait for evidence. Prowl had no idea how to transfer data gained from supernatural beings into evidence worthy of consideration in a decision.

Prowl would have to rework some of his world-views to take Jazz and their kind into account in it. Once he’d told his creator about it, Prowl was sure Hunter would sit down with him and help him work out what he’d learned. Breakneck would take him down to the track and race him to help him clear his head.

They stood at the back of the temple for a klik, taking it in. The inside of the temple was plain, compared to the pictures of others Prowl had seen. It did have carvings, tapestries, and elegant architecture like the others, but they were simple. He wondered if they might have been made by the monks instead of commissioned from artisans.

“Yeah,” said Jazz, looking around appreciatively. “This is good.”

Ascetic Parament approached them. “Welcome, honoured guests,” she said. “I’m pleased to hear you approve of our humble temple.”

“It’s the care and devotion put into it that make a temple,” Jazz said, smiling at the monk. Their voice was warm. “I see a lot of that here. Your order does fine work.”

“Thank you,” Parament replied with a strange touch of hesitation in her voice. “Jazz, was it?” She sounded as if she had a doubt.

“That’s what they call me,” Jazz agreed cheerfully.

“Service will begin shortly.” Parament gestured to the rows of benches. “Please, be seated.”

‘ _She picked something up,’_ Prowl observed as they walked to a seat partway back on the right. ‘ _Bluestreak would ask if you’re putting the whammy on the monks.’_

Jazz’s glyphs were marked with amusement. ‘ _Maybe I’m just that gorgeous.’_ While Prowl, flustered, scrambled for a reply, they continued. ‘ _Nah, she’s genuinely devout. Very spiritual people can pick up on what I am sometimes, even without the whammy. It’s why your friend Hound believed me right off the bat.’_

‘ _I’m not at all spiritual,_ ’ Prowl confessed.

‘ _Sure you are, there are just different kinds. Prowler, you went toe-to-toe with a_ demon, _and you_ made it _. Remember what you fought it with.’_ Jazz gave Prowl’s hand a friendly little squeeze as they sat down, the first time they’d touched him since the attic. ‘ _That wasn’t a thing someone who’s not spiritual could do. Your faith is just placed in people, not Primus._ ’

‘ _You’re alright with that?_ ’

‘ _Sure am. It all comes back to Primus in the end, after all. You’ve heard the phrase ‘til all are one’ before, right?_ ’

Prowl had, but he’d never put any real thought into it. It was just something mecha said. He filed Jazz’s words with the other data he’d been collating on this whole experience, to be processed later. He wanted to talk to Hunter before he began to draw conclusions. Prowl might be an adult, but his creator had experienced so much more than he had, and Prowl had a feeling he’d want to add that data to his own.

The Iaconian priest, Censer, was very obviously not a member of the monastery. The monks were uniformly painted in sombre colours, and many had identical or near-identical frames. Censer was painted, enamelled, _jewelled_ , and inlaid to the point Prowl wondered if he were even able to transform. Prowl contrasted him with the monks and with Jazz, who was black-and-white with red and blue accents.

Prowl had not attended a religious service before but compared to the opening benediction by the abbot, Censer’s sermon seemed less than devout. Even to Prowl’s inexperienced audial, it seemed to deal too much with material things and the perception of the Church of Primus by the public. Jazz, focussed on the priest, was unreadable.

Parament approached them again after the service ended. “How did you find the sermon, Jazz?”

Prowl found it interesting that she addressed Jazz directly with her question. He listened carefully not only to the reply but to the undertones of it.

“It was enlightening, Ascetic. Thank you.”

“I see. Please, feel free to use our chapel for meditation if you would like before you and your companions are on your way.” Parament looked at Prowl. “The offer is, of course, extended to your whole party.”

But she had made it to Jazz, specifically, first. Prowl touched Jazz’s shoulder.

“Why don’t I let Hound and the others know of the Ascetic’s kind offer,” Prowl suggested, “while you go on ahead.”

“Sounds good, Prowl. Ascetic, if you’ll show me the way?”

* * *

The chapel was small and simple but, like the main temple, clearly built and maintained by devotion. Jazz looked around approvingly.

“It’s older than the temple, isn’t it?” they asked Parament, who – and not to their surprise – had followed them in and closed the door softly behind them.

“It was the original temple when the monastery was first built in the Age of Origins. Later, when the monastery grew large enough, the current temple was erected at the beginning of the current Age.” Parament hesitated for a moment, watching Jazz wander the perimeter of the chapel looking at the carvings.

“Hound probably will take you up on your offer,” Jazz hinted mildly, as their circuit brought them back around. “Don’t mean to rush you but if there’s something you want to tell me…”

“I hope I’m not wrong about you,” Parament said nervously.

Jazz put a hand on her shoulder, let through a _frisson_ of their true form. Her optics went wide, and she bowed.

“ _Principátus_ ,” she murmured.

“You can just call me by my mortal designation,” they assured her. “Never have been one for ceremony. So,” he guided her over to one of the benches, “something’s up here. Sit down and tell ol’ Jazz all about it.”

“Everything was fine here until Priest Censer arrived,” Parament told them as she and Jazz sat down. “He brought…discord. I – “

Jazz let a few nano-kliks of silence go by while Parament visibly struggled to speak against a higher member of her order.

“He’s not a priest,” they told her after a moment. “Might have the title and the rank and the bodywork but it’s been a long time since he was a priest at spark, if ever. Go on. If it helps, pretty sure I outrank him.”

That made her smile and relax. She continued. “When he arrived, it was without any notice and apart from the one sermon tonight he’s been keeping himself secluded. But this _isn’t_ a monastery priests usually come to take a sabbatical like that, and when they do, we usually know deca-cycles in advance. They want security, and usually bring a retinue that needs to be housed and fed more than we can put together at short notice. But he only brought one guard and then dismissed them back to Kaon. I heard a rumour that he’s supposed to be on sabbatical there.”

“Is he, now,” Jazz murmured. “What have you noticed about Censer that strikes you as odd?”

“One thing – it sounds strange, but – his shadow. It’s too dark and,” Parament’s voice dropped, “it doesn’t _move_ right. Its mimicry of him is just a fraction of a nano-klik off. I wasn’t sure, so I watched and then played my memories back slowly. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah,” Jazz said thoughtfully. “Yeah, it does. Where’s he staying?”

“There are quarters for visiting priests and monks in the east wing of the dormitory. He’s there. I can show you,” she offered. “I have chores to attend to, but I will be free again in two cycles.”

Jazz knew where it was, having explored the monastery thoroughly overnight but could tell it was important to Parament to help, to look after her beloved monastery. “Let’s do that.”

* * *

While Hound took the opportunity to meditate in the chapel, the others finished their breakfast at a table in the sun and waited for Jazz, and then Hound, to show up again. Bluestreak, who didn’t like to stay in one place for long most of the time, was just beginning to get on Prowl’s nerves as only a sibling could when Jazz showed up again.

“Everything all right?” Trailbreaker asked them. Jazz gave a casual shrug.

“Yeah, fine. Just talking to Ascetic Parament for a bit.” They sat down and snagged a cube from the stack on the tray in the middle of the table, sipped. “That’s good,” they said approvingly. “Listen, appreciate you all keeping me company and I am going to head to Praxus soon, but something’s come up here I’ve got to take care of. Going to be another two and a half, three cycles so you mecha can head out without me.”

“I can stay with you,” Prowl offered. He felt oddly responsible for Jazz, who hadn’t been out in the world in who knew how long. “I’m not due back at work until tomorrow.”

“If Prowl stays I stay,” Bluestreak said immediately. “I can be here for four cycles before I absolutely have to leave so I can get to work on time.”

“ _Without_ abusing your sirens,” Prowl said firmly.

“Yes, _Creator_ ,” Bluestreak shot back. “Without abusing my sirens.”

Trailbreaker looked uncomfortable. He obviously wanted to stay if Bluestreak did, but: “I can’t stay.”

“You and Hound can go back,” Bluestreak reassured him. “You should go together because it’d be boring driving all that way alone.”

“Appreciate it, Bluestreak,” Jazz said gently. “But I think four people’d be too many for this. You go ahead and go on back with your sweetsparks.”

“Oh, um, I – we – “ Bluestreak shifted a little. “How did you know?”

Jazz smiled. “I know. Go ahead. Your sibling is safe with me, I promise.”

* * *

After Bluestreak, Hound, and Trailbreaker left, Jazz and Prowl killed time till Parament was available by exploring the sites and shrines available to religious pilgrims. They were few, and small, but well-kept and clearly maintained with genuine devotion. Prowl could appreciate them on an aesthetic and historical level, as well as acknowledging the monks’ dedication, even though he didn’t follow their faith.

Jazz paused longest at a shrine, in what looked like the oldest part of the monastery grounds, that was dedicated to The Arisen. Prowl wasn’t familiar with the name and asked about it.

“One of the Thirteen Primes,” Jazz explained, tracing the glyphs slowly. “Just known as Thirteen, actually – their true name was erased from history.”

“Why?”

“I asked about that once. I was told I’d understand in time.” Jazz paused, hand resting lightly on the shrine. “That was a while ago, even by my standards.”

“Did you ever meet any of the Thirteen?” Prowl asked, curious.

“One or two, here and there. I didn’t really spend much time among mortals till it was time for you to start getting your cultures going.” Jazz gave the shrine an oddly affectionate little pat. “Come on, let’s go meet Parament. I’ll tell you stories later.”

Prowl felt oddly pleased with the idea there would be a later, with Jazz. He wasn’t surprised – Jazz hadn’t been _hinting_ when they’d said they wanted to stay around mortals to make some new friends. Hell, they’d flat-out said they liked Prowl. But still, it felt nice to have it reconfirmed.

“What will you need me to do?” Prowl asked as they walked to the door of the temple, where Jazz had agreed to meet up with Parament at the appointed time.

“Probably nothing,” Jazz said casually. “I think it’s some kind of spiritual parasite feeding on Censer’s energy, or maybe a malevolent spirit that’s attached itself. Hard to tell exactly, it’s not something native to this plane or the one I’m from. I can still take care of it, though. It manifests as his shadow but if you look carefully, its mimicry is just a fraction of a nano-klik off. Parament picked up on it and told me about it earlier. Whatever it is, shouldn’t be as strong as the demon and I know you can fight one of those and hold your own. You make a good backup – and like I said, I like you, Prowler.”

“I – “

Jazz patted his arm. “We’ll talk later. There’s Parament.”

Parament’s gaze flicked from Jazz to Prowl, uncertainly. “You’re not – the same?” she asked.

Jazz shook their head. “Nope. Prowl here’s mortal like you are. He’s up to speed on things, though. Everyone ready?”

Parament led them to the monks’ dormitories, empty at this time of day. Prowl wondered what monks did when they weren’t praying or holding services but decided this wasn’t the time to question it. He could look it up later.

The monks’ rooms did not have doors, and so it was obvious which one belonged to Censer. The plain bed was covered with a luxurious-looking portable sleeping mat. The polish sitting on the low table next to the bed was a pricey, high-end brand. Prowl had seen commercials for it and knew exactly how expensive – he privately thought over-priced – it was. Admittedly, Prowl was unclear on why being devout should require living with only the basics, but it did seem like there should be limits. Especially when your income came out of public funds.

Censer was kneeling, facing away from the door, and did not register their presence until Jazz knocked on the doorframe.

Censer jerked in surprise, then stood up and spun around, a little clumsily, as if their balance were off.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Ascetic Parament, what is the meaning of this?”

“I’m Jazz. Ascetic Parament brought me here to help you,” Jazz said calmly, using their body to block the doorway to keep Censer’s – and presumably the parasite’s – attention on him. “You’ve got a bit of a problem, don’t you, mech?”

Censer drew himself up and looked down his nose at Jazz. “You will address me as Priest Censer.”

“Nah,” Jazz said coolly. “I won’t.”

Prowl couldn’t see Jazz’s face so he couldn’t be sure, but from the way Censer’s retort turned into a shocked noise, he thought Censer had gotten a glimpse of the manner of entity Jazz really was.

Prowl didn’t think Censer was the only one. The Enforcer swore the priest's shadow, cast behind him on the wall, grew darker and rippled threateningly. Beside Prowl, Parament gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

“Y-you’re…real?” Censer asked, dumbfounded. “You can’t be real, I didn’t – “

“Really?” Jazz asked gently. “Not ever? There was never anything there, belief-wise?”

To his credit, Censer looked ashamed. “Perhaps…once…”

“And I know you noticed something wrong,” Jazz continued. “It’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You probably feel it, have been for a while. Maybe you’ve even seen it, in the reflection, or when your shadow stretches out in front of you.” From the way Censer’s optics went wide, and frightened, Prowl knew Jazz had struck home. “Been feeling tired, no matter how much you sleep. Maybe you’ve even gone back to praying when you’re not in front of an audience. This is the kinda thing you need outside help for, though.” The tilt of Jazz’s head changed, just slightly; Prowl knew they were smiling. “And it’s here.” They held out their hands. “Going to let me lay on hands or are we going to keep chatting? Cause that thing’s not going to get any happier with us…”

“I don’t deserve…”

“You don’t deserve to be consumed from the inside out, either,” Jazz pointed out. “Come on, mech. I won’t hurt you.”

“I’ve sinned…”

“Please, Censer,” Parament spoke up, her voice gentle. “Let them help you. Whatever you’ve done, or think you’ve done, you can’t make up for it if a parasite consumes you.”

Censer bowed their head. “Yes.”

Jazz stepped forward. They raised a hand to Censer’s head.

Everything in the room disappeared into darkness. Parament began to whisper a prayer. Prowl took an alarmed step forward. Intervention was not necessary, however. The darkness faded nearly as swiftly as it had appeared, revealing Censer on their knees, staring up at Jazz in shock.

“You – did it,” Censer whispered. “I feel – it took – H-how do I repay you? What do you want me to do?”

“Personally, don’t need to be repaid,” Jazz said. “But if you feel you need some sort of penance, maybe look into bringing things back to their roots – less about things and looking good, more about faith. That sort of thing.” They glanced back over their shoulder. “Pretty sure Parament here can help you out with that.”

Parament looked shocked. “I – Jazz, I’m not – “

Jazz smiled. “Yes, you are.” They turned back to Censer. “But that’s just what I think you should do. You’ve got free will so whatever you do, do it because you _feel_ it, not because you think it’s what I want.”

*

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Prowl asked Jazz as they left. Parament had stayed with Censer, providing the shell-shocked priest with comfort and whatever assistance she could.

Jazz shrugged. “Maybe? He got a pretty big wake-up call, there. But like I said, he’s got free will and its up to him. Hopefully, he’ll let Parament help him out. She’s one of the good ones. Like you.”

“Thank you,” Prowl said softly. It seemed like such a small compliment, but the way Jazz said it made Prowl feel warm inside. “Jazz, when you said earlier that we’d talk later…did you mean later today, or – “

Jazz gave Prowl’s arm a friendly squeeze; their hand was warm. “When you’re ready, maybe in a couple of megacycles. It’s been a pretty intense few cycles for you.”

Prowl realized they were right, it had been less than a full seventy-four cycles since his sibling and friends had dared him to spend a night in a haunted house.

“It has,” he admitted. “Is every day like this with you?”

Jazz laughed and slung an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. “Stick around, and you’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> “Paraments or Parements (from Late Latin  _paramentum_ , adornment,  _parare_ , to prepare, equip) are the hangings or ornaments of a room of state. Paraments include the liturgical hangings on and around the altar, as well as the cloths hanging from the pulpit and lectern, as well as the ecclesiastical vestments and mitres, and altar cloths.” ([Source](https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Parament&oldid=781657471))
> 
>  _Principátus_ : Adapted from the Principalities (or Rulers) of the Third Sphere in Christian angelology. They’re “heavenly guides, protectors, and messengers“ and also “said to inspire living things to many things such as art or science.” ([Source](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_angelology#Principalities_or_Rulers)) Seemed appropriate. ^_^  
> 


End file.
